Fate: Edge of Eternity
by SomeWritingGuy
Summary: It's time for the Mage's Association to act. A sealing designate has finally gone too far and they're prepared to use everything at their disposal to put an end to him. Eight of the finest magi willing to take the mark should be more than enough - that is, unless the mark in question can produce Noble Phantasms from thin air. (Remember to thank Berix the beta!)
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone and welcome to a new fic by me! If you've come over from Fate: Unbalanced Scales, welcome to something a little different. Compared to that fic, these chapters are going to be significantly easier to digest. By that, I don't mean this will be lighter in tone - in fact, this might possibly be darker. I mean that the chapters are only going to be around 5k.**

**If you're new to me as an author - hello and welcome to you as well! I appreciate you taking the time to read this. I know how this may sound, but this fic primarily features OC main characters. There is one character who is from the original Fate universe, but I think you may have already figured them out. If not, keep guessing!**

**I don't have a cover page of this fic, nor do I have any idea on what might be a good fit. However, if any of you readers are artists or know of artists, I would be more than willing to commission art to become the cover of this fic!**

**Anyway, give this a shot and please enjoy!**

* * *

Even from here, she could hear the fire crackling and snapping as the moisture exploded from where it had been trapped within. Taking short breaths as she worked to clamber over the flora surrounding her, she eventually got within sight, spotting the warm red-orange glow which bathed light and warmth onto the seven people surrounding the blaze.

She knew each of them well, though would never be able to call a single one "friend". The knowledge came from scouring their individual dossiers and past. She was a woman who worked with others only once she knew the ones who would have her back. She had been told that every member of the team was focused on teamwork, but they were all a house divided.

She could hear voices from here but was too far to pick them out clearly. Just a little further, then she could sit down and rest for the night. Sighing softly to herself in the cold night air, she thought over their circumstances once more, concluding once again that they were woefully unprepared.

Each and every one of them had the same mission, they all knew what was required of them. They were to hunt down and kill a single man, a sealing designate. Specifically, a sealing designate with a reputation for being the most dangerous of _all _designates. Dozens of confident magi had tried hunting this target before. As things naturally did, it all started with one. One enforcer was sent out and when they failed, the number and strength were doubled. When those two failed, the quantity and quality was doubled once more.

After so many failures against what was supposedly an indomitable force, the Mage's Association was angry - or scared. It hired eight of the best magi it could find who was willing to take on the high-risk job. With all eight of them together and striking as a single team, they had enough power to take on even dead apostle ancestors, supposedly.

Personally, Sakasha estimated their chances to be around one in a hundred. Their only hope was if the designate pitied them enough to let his guard down or outright surrendered unless they established some decent teamwork.

But who was she? Just some lowly assassin freelancer, not one of the high-ranking enforcers who called the shots.

She spat unceremoniously on the ground, grumbling bitterly. Considering the thought, she realized she wasn't any better than they were in terms of teamwork. To be fair, she faced the most prejudice by being a "lowly freelancer" and all, so it was hard to get over her resentment.

Eventually, she reached the ring of light surrounding the flame, casting a gaze around at her comrades before lifting an eyebrow at the awkward silence. "This should be enough firewood to last the night," she claimed, dropping it haphazardly onto the ground.

Nobody from the enforcer side of the fire cared enough to express thanks, merely staring at her or the flame with hollow eyes. The other magi on her side of the flame all mumbled some sort of gratitude statement. It was like this every night, whether they were around a fire or inside a building. Each group got one half of the area they were staying in, separating due to their own fierce dislike for one another.

Of the eight people tasked, half of them were enforcers and the other half was a collection of freelancers and magi with special skills. Sakasha settled herself onto the ground, warming her chilled body in the light of the fire. Her eyes landed on the "leader" of the enforcers, one Isaac Bloome. He was a decent-looking man, five foot eight, one-seventy pounds. He had a brown crew cut above an oval face with soft hazel eyes. Despite the rivalry, his lips held a soft smirk at the edges, a feature which seemed to be permanent, as Sakasha had never seen it falter once. From what she knew, he was an incredibly simplistic man. He ate and drank when needed, not for any other purpose. He never complained of conditions and so long as they were making progress on their goal, he was content. Even his clothes reflected his simplistic nature. A plain azure button-up with half of the buttons undone and black loose-fitting slacks. Adorned on his chest, was a smattering of unkempt chest hair. "I forgot where we left off," he admitted, rotating his neck to produce a disgusting crack.

Sakasha lazily hummed in thought before jabbing her finger off toward the right, pointing toward a small girl, Émile Tozer. She was a miniature thing, barely hitting five feet and likely only ninety pounds soaking wet. She had a soft face and long flowing lavender hair above an outfit that would put the magical girls in cartoons to shame. It was excessively flamboyant and over the top, though it definitely matched her personality. Featuring bright whites and complementing purple tones, the attire was moderately concealing, with just enough to pry on the neolithic minds of the more impulsive. Émile had brilliant, sparkling ocean blue eyes and a smile that could melt the most stubborn hearts, but as the attention was directed her way, she pouted and seemed to cower under the collective, expecting gaze. "I finished my story, it was Bear!"

All eyes moved to the man in question, a true brute whose nickname didn't lie. Ryzen "Bear" Lombardi, a genuine colossus. Easily trumping six feet four inches and coming in somewhere around three hundred pounds. The man was a wall of meat, though unlike bodybuilders who valued aesthetics in exchange for true strength, Bear had packed on pounds to become a true powerhouse. He was rounded, with little muscle definition, though it was clear that he could tear anyone present in half with his bare hands, reinforced or not. He had a rough, heavily bearded square face with thin lips hidden beneath facial hair and sharp ominous eyes. A scar from the center of his left elbow crossed his head to the other side of his scalp, clearly visible as a whitish line on his leather-like skin. His head had been shaved, save for a small - but thick - patch of raven hair on the top of his head. It extended to the back of his skull, where the hair had grown out long enough to form a respectable braid.

Reaching up to scratch at the wild hair of his beard, Bear leaned forward on the log which he had been seated upon. Every slight motion was accompanied by a soft jingle. It was due to the man's attire, an entire ensemble made of leather and steel rings. It was custom-designed to fit his body comfortably, likely because normal clothing would be too tight. Firelight spilled onto his face, illuminating his gruff features and soft brown eyes as well as a piece of food that had been caught in his beard hair. "I reckon we all tell stories about our mark. There's been a lot of 'em made over the past couple years." His voice was expectedly deep with a hint of an Australian accent, holding none of the slowness one might associate with his size.

A woman quickly asked a question with some impatience. "So who's got the good ones?" The third of the four enforcers, Cherry Walz, was a particularly strange case. Sakasha had been able to link her to several mercenary contracts in South Africa before her time as an enforcer began. She was a lithe woman, with bountiful _assets _wrapped tight in a black and maroon catsuit - complete with high-heeled boots. While Sakasha considered them stupidly inefficient, it wasn't up to her to tell the "mighty enforcers" how to fight. At least she maintained the sense of redundancy throughout her entire appearance as her face was plastered with enough makeup to sufficiently coat the faces of three individual women.

"I think Sakasha had something to say, but she went off to get firewood," Isaac hummed, directly staring at her with an expectant gaze.

Narrowing her eyes, the woman in question produced a lengthy sigh. "I've only heard one, but it's probably not the same one you're all used to." Staring into the fire, she collected her thoughts, intending to recount the story passed to her verbatim. "Years ago, he used to be a student at the Clock Tower."

"This isn't one of those, _he was the best and everyone loved him_ type of stories is it?" Isaac suddenly interrupted.

Shooting the enforcer a scowl, Sakasha rolled her eyes and answered the question anyway. "No it's not, but you would have realized that if you let me speak." The man snickered and raised both hands in defence, allowing her to resume.

"He was a shite magus. In fact, he was only allowed in the Tower because he was acting as an apprentice for a magus infinitely better than he could ever be. He tried hard, but no matter what sort of magecraft he tried to get into, he couldn't pull anything off." The woman shifted, bending her leg and resting her wrist upon the knee. "After about a year or so, he dropped out and was never heard from again for months," she shrugged, closing her eyes softly.

"That's it? We're hunting a trash-tier magus who left because he wasn't good at anything?" Bear produced a booming chuckle. "This'll be the easiest money I'll ever make."

Sakasha opened and subsequently rolled her eyes. "It was a dramatic pause you dope. Anyway, nobody heard of him again in months, but one day he crossed paths with an enforcer on a mission. Their name was Polly, and Polly just so happened to be after a sealing designate - the exact same person our mark happened to be hunting. Deciding to watch rather than wipe them both out, our enforcer held back and observed, and saw our mark create a genuine noble phantasm from thin air."

"How did she know it was a noble phantasm?" Cherry asked, voice full of immature wonderment.

Sakasha snapped her head over to give the young girl a look. "Who said it was a lady? Polly's just a little…" She gestured with one hand. "_Flamboyant_," she finished.

"Answer the question regardless, my dear." The voice came from a man on her right. It was accented with deliberate pauses in an almost regal fashion. It was someone Sakasha had actually known before she was contracted on this job.

He was a mystic code maker, unknown to the more elite magi and enforcers, but quite well known to the underdogs and criminally-oriented. He wasn't like most code creators who made general all-purpose tools for any magi to purchase. Rather, Corvier custom-tooled specialized codes to each buyer. It drove the price of his codes up drastically, but the benefits associated with having a code manufactured specifically to match a magus' skills far outweighed that cost.

Because of his craft, he had amassed a considerable fortune, though his appearance was more reminiscent of a pauper. If she had to guess, she would say he was five foot seven and about one hundred forty pounds. His face was deeply wrinkled with age and gave the impression of an elder who had simultaneously seen his fair share of fights. He had frazzled, wild gray hair sticking up at inconceivable angles and small soft brown eyes set deep in their sockets, still glimmering with wisdom. Ahead, nestled part ways down his nose were spectacles plucked straight from the nineteenth century. At the very least they complimented his look, something the rest of his attire failed to do. He was wearing modern attire, specifically brown slacks and a puffy, flowing white shirt which featured a string to tie the neck together. This string must have been lost along the way, as the brass eyes were empty and the neck portion was wide open.

Out of all the people Sakasha had met, he was honestly one of the nicest and most entertaining. "Well, I don't know of any weapons that can obliterate an entire city block without so much as a single line incantation but you're the expert."

Chuckling, the old man pushed up his glasses and rocked in his seat. "I'd argue that your assumption is correct."

"Back to the story then. Polly went back to the Clock Tower and reported the sighted individual as a new sealing designate. _That's_ when things _started _going to hell. The Clock Tower sent an enforcer out to try and eliminate the new designate, but they returned barely holding on to their lives. Two freelancers were hired on Mage's Association dollar but neither one of them returned." Sakasha paused for a moment to reach forward and place some more wood onto the fire, poking and prodding it to bathe more light and warmth on the area. "So the Association looked elsewhere. Instead of going after him directly, they went after his friends and family. Their first target was someone already in their clutches: The magus he had apprenticed under. They tortured her to death for information and while she didn't know his location like they were expecting, she knew so much more and the true danger was revealed."

Isaac made a loud scoff and shook his head indignantly. "This is bullshit, how do you expect us to believe that the Mage's Association tortured an innocent magus to get at a designate."

Sakasha sighed softly before lifting her shoulders in an impartial shrug. "Whether you believe me or not, I don't care. I'm just telling you a story."

"Let the girl speak, things were just getting interesting," a man mumbled, voice marred with annoyance. It was deep and gravelly all while being expressive at the same time. It originated from a man fully lying down on the cool, dark ground with one leg resting upon the other. After speaking, he sat up and glared harshly across the flame toward Isaac.

Garris "Watcher" Halencak, a man nearly as intimidating as Bear in only half the size. He was slim but well built, rising a respectable six feet tall and weighing a touch over two hundred pounds. He was a gruff-looking man with a chiselled jawline covered in scratchy brown stubble. Running along the left side of his face was a wicked scar which claimed some of his hair. With one end behind his ear and the other beneath his cheek, it was quick a visible mark, though it also appeared quite aged if the lack of discoloration was anything to go off of. The top of his head was shaved, though the hair attempting to surface was quite thick regardless - almost like a dense carpet that enveloped his scalp. His attire was more belonging in a gymnasium than out in the woods: A spandex tee that clenched his biceps and chest over half-pants and running shoes.

Watcher might have been strange, but he was nothing in comparison to the enforcer known only as Whisper. Sakasha had never heard them speak even once and as far as she knew, the only way to communicate with them was to ask yes or no questions - so they could nod or shake their head as an answer. They were about five foot ten and likely one hundred sixty pounds, though their weight was indecipherable due to their attire. From head to toe, they were clad in hefty black attire. With rigid components covering what was possible and flexible components where needed, not a single square inch of skin was visible.

In the pursuit of absolute anonymity, Whisper even wore a bulky gas mask beneath a hood, the clear lenses of which having been replaced with silver, reflective-coated ones. It was difficult to tell much about them, though they did produce soft wheezing with each breath. It was likely due to the constricting mask than an actual health affliction, however. Of all the enforcers she had to work beside, Whisper was the least unbearable, only because they didn't really do anything.

Isaac, having glared at Watcher for a few seconds, eventually made a "tsk" before falling silent.

Taking in a breath, Sakasha resumed from where she left off. "So the magus he had apprenticed under was tortured, tortured to death in fact. That's important because the guy they were hunting sort of… Snapped, shortly afterwards. Once he got word of his friend's death, he stopped wounding the magi hunting him and started brutally murdering them. The murders were so barbaric that the bodies of each magus grew hard to identify. So, the Association got a little angrier and looked further back into our mark's history. They found out where his hometown was and hunted down the rest of his friends, claiming it was all in the pursuit of information to better take him down."

"How many did they kill?" Émile gawked, leaning forward to beam up at the storyteller.

"Just one, but that was all they needed to. I couldn't be bothered to remember the name, but after they died, our mark cracked even more than before. Instead of simply trying to run from the enforcers hunting him, our mark starting trying to _take us down_. He found the individuals responsible for torturing his friends and administered a similar fate to them as well."

"And that all leads to the Association hiring us as a final straw. They got fed up and really want this guy dead," Cherry finalized.

Since that was essentially a summarization of what Sakasha would say anyway, the girl shrugged and agreed.

"That's not what I heard at all," Bear scoffed, creaking forward with a metallic jingle. "I heard our mark was always a monster, tearing people apart with blades long before the Clock Tower ever heard of him."

The enforcers all slowly agreed with one another over the false rumour. Evidently, it was believable enough to claim the opinion of one of the magi as well, as Garris silently nodded to himself. It seemed that both Jaques and Émile were more believing of Sakasha's story, as their sour disposition to the laughter going on around them would indicate.

Shaking her head, the woman stood and turned from the fire. She ignored the shouting of her name and carried on down the path to their camp. It didn't matter to her, they could all believe what they wanted. So long as they pulled their weight in putting their mark down, everything would be fine.

It wasn't as if she could change their mind anyway. All of the propaganda from the Clock Tower was branded into their mind. They couldn't see their mark for who he really was: A man who had nothing left to lose, who'd had everything ripped away from him. A man who wanted revenge for everything that had been done to him.

Of course, she would still kill him; not putting him down now would be like letting a rabid dog run free. At this point, it would be a mercy killing. Something that was unfortunate, but still had to be done.

Kicking rocks as she walked, the girl stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. Just ahead was a stream where they had gathered some freshwater and bathed just hours ago. It was a touch inhumane, sure, but it was better than being sweaty while they tracked their mark across the European countryside.

Sakasha didn't really know precisely what area she was in, but she knew the way back to where they based out of well enough. They were somewhere in north-western Russia and since she never learned Cyrillic, that was as exact as she could get.

The group had expected to be traversing the wilderness on foot, though only three out of the eight were trained to actually _live_ in the wild. Besides Sakasha, the other two were Isaac and Émile of all people.

Yes, the little girl who hardly looked old enough to be out of elementary school was more experienced living off the land than the three hundred pound goliath, Bear. Sakasha still couldn't fully comprehend how such a thing was possible but she was grateful for an extra pair of helpful hands at the very least.

Eventually, the trickling burble of the stream signalled her proximity. Squinting her eyes, she spotted the glimmering moonlit surface of running water and slowed her pace to approach without getting her feet sodden.

Once she was closer, the girl kneeled on the soft dirt and looked into the water, splashing some of the cool fluid onto her face and taking a deep breath. Her own warbled reflection stared back at her with concern. Deadened, large brown eyes and full lips beneath short, marbled toffee-coloured hair flowing naturally from the sides of her face. Through the choppy water surface, she could pick out her own soft, small nose and rounded jawline.

Sakasha knew she wasn't the prettiest girl around but in her line of work, that sort of thing hardly mattered. Unless of course, you were someone like Cherry Walz.

Scoffing, the woman splashed at her own reflection and stood tall. The next few moments were spent brushing the mud from her jeans and straightening her jacket. Tugging on the cuffs and fixing the woollen collar of her bomber jacket, the girl turned around to head back to the fire.

There were always divisions like this within their group. It wasn't always over frivolous things like the opinions of a target, but over important decisions as well: Which way they should go, what they should focus on doing for the day, how they were to react in a combat situation.

Sakasha's previous estimation of their one-in-a-hundred chance depended entirely on one-hundred-percent cooperation and combat compatibility. At the moment, she estimated that they only had _fifty_ percent cohesion and that was on a good day. If they tried to take on their mark as they were now, bickering and uncertain, they would meet the same fate as all the magi before them. In order to survive, they would need to collectively work together. Even then, it was likely to be a battle that would cause substantial losses.

Hopefully, she wouldn't end up as one of the casualties. Stuffing both hands into her coat, the girl turned to trail back to the fire. They had practiced fighting a single target before travelling from Britain. It was a shit show, utterly packed with friendly fire and disjointed tactics. A responsive, competent enemy would only magnify the chaos or at least direct it to be used in their favour.

To make matters worse, the payout for each of them only increased with the number of casualties. They were all paid a decent sum upfront but the real reward came to each of them after the contract was completed. If all eight survived, each one of them could see fifteen million dollars. If one died, they would all receive seventeen million, and the payout only increased the fewer there were. It was a risky move by the Clock Tower, as the allure of extra money inspired greed and gave each other member of the party a reason to "accidentally" kill the others.

Grumbling, Sakasha stopped on the trail to reach into the breast pocket of her coat. Carefully, she withdrew a soot-marred silver locket. Popping open the cover, the image of a smiling man stared back at her, infectiously placing a small smile on her own face.

"Soon," she mumbled, snapping the cover shut and looking upward resolutely. "Whether I live or die, you'll get the help you need."

* * *

**That's the prologue down. I admit that most of this prologue is chapter description but that is what happens when you have eight OC's all introduced at once.**

**Anyway! Remember to favourite, follow and leave a review! Also, if you enjoyed this, you can head on over to another one of my fics: Fate: Unbalanced Scales**!


	2. Contact

**To be fair, my beloved beta Talndir has seemingly left me after all this time. A very sad loss, but if he happens to read this then I'd just like him to get in contact with me. If he's busy, he's busy - there's nothing I can do to help that. Either way, I'll post content for you readers regardless!**

**As suggested by a reviewer, I've included a "Character Sheet" in the next chapter that has some sparse, sketchy details on the characters. Don't hate me if it's bad, I don't like character sheets and I can't write them worth a damn. Expect mass amounts of tense changed from past to present.**

**Either way! Enjoy this next chapter of Edge of Eternity! (Fate:US chapter to come soon! I'm 75% done chapter 24 right now, so there is content, it's just not out yet!)**

* * *

It had rained last night. While most would have been upset at the chilled dampness in the air the following morning, Sakasha was thankful. With everything moist, their level of noise generation would be minimized. It was the perfect time to track someone down.

Moving in formation, Sakasha and Émile took on the rear while Isaac and Bear were leading the pack, deciding where they would go. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, the woman ensured they weren't being followed by a third party before returning her attention to the hike.

The days prior, she had been second in line so that she could help Isaac track their mark. Without her, he would have followed a nonconsequential clue which would have led them further away. She knew why she had been delegated to bringing up the tail: They didn't appreciate her story last night.

It wasn't skin off her nose. If they followed a cold path out of simple incompetence because of their egos, she could just blame them easier. Finding herself directly behind Émile once again, Sakasha gently pushed her forward. "Let's keep moving, alright? We have to keep pace with the rest of our group."

The girl complained loudly about one thing or the other, Sakasha didn't care enough to really commit any of it to memory. The girl did start moving a little faster at the very least, bringing their group a bit closer together.

In the heart of the Russian north-west, civility reached an all time low. Even in current times, it seemed as if this region was just too inhospitable to colonize and Sakasha would have to agree. The tree coverage here was verging on overgrown and nature ran rampant. It was for this reason that they had to keep such a tight formation, lest they lose track of one another and get lost.

Thankfully, even if Émile slogged behind, Sakasha wouldn't lose her way as long as she was able to keep sight of Whisper up ahead. "Keep moving or I'll dump barbeque sauce on your head and whistle for the wolves," Sakasha threatened, gingerly convincing the smaller girl ahead to move with a push against her shoulder.

It was enough to get her feet moving and the girl quickly moved to make some space. With their formation in better shape, the mindless march forward continued for the better part of an hour. Eventually, the group reassembled as scheduled and decided on their next course of action.

"If we keep moving forward we should come across a small village," Isaac claimed, drawing a simple map from the back pocket of his pants. It was crumpled and rough around the edges, but it would serve its purpose as it had in the past.

"I can speak to the locals and see if they have any sightings of our mark," Cherry contributed. In Sakasha's opinion, translating was all she was good for.

Watcher was quick to point out a flaw. "Wouldn't a designate this notorious running from the Association cover his tracks with hypnosis? What's the point?"

The time for Sakasha to speak arrived. "Our mark isn't a proper magus, they don't know _how_ to hypnotize people."

"How can you be so sure?" Bear boomed from a few steps away.

Rolling her eyes, the girl refrained from letting the annoyance reach her voice. "Just trust me on this. If he passed through the place directly, people will have seen him and they'll be able to tell us."

Isaac nodded at the information, tapping at a small X on his map with one finger. "Well, we aren't far now. If we keep moving and press through the night we might have a chance to get the jump on them."

Tracking a man who didn't want to be found was always a difficult thing. Fortunately for magi, it was made significantly easier by examining trace mana signatures. Every use of mana left behind residue. It was similar to gunpowder, which left behind signatures of its use no matter what attempt was made to prevent it.

The more mana a magus used, the easier it was to follow. Even if a magus neglected to cast a spell or activate his circuits, they still produced traces fragments of mana by breathing, expelling mana through the water vapour - their saliva.

In such small amounts, it required a keen eye and great amounts of attention to discover. Unless of course, you had Mystic Eyes of Perception like Watcher - hence the nickname. Because of his gift, he was able to pick up on even the most minimal fragment of mana. Of course, this couldn't be done instantaneously and it took quite a lot of time to survey an entire area for clues. Such an ability was more suited to watching and analyzing something specifically rather than a broad area.

It was because of the extra unnecessary time that Sakasha still preferred her tried and true method of examining the area for disturbances and making educated assumptions off that data.

The tracks Sakasha had made note of were rather fresh so Isaac's estimation wasn't far off.

"Have we figured out where he is going?" Émile asked, "I hope it's somewhere warmer." The girl wrapped her arms childishly around her body and shivered once.

Isaac made a strong hum before speaking. "I would put a thousand dollars down that he's moving to the north east coast where the Barenta meets the White Sea. He's likely hired someone with a ship to escape into the water where he can't be followed."

"If he makes it onto open water, we've lost him, so we have to stop him before then," Sakasha added.

Watcher nodded, placing a hand thoughtfully over his mouth. "Right, and there's about ten hours walking between here and there. Maybe it would be a good idea to find out where the boat is going to land and ambush him then?"

Isaac shook his head, scowling at the man's question. "There's a hundred miles of coast we would have to watch over. Even then, who's to say that whoever picks him up isn't a powerful magus ally? Honour among murderous bastards, you know?"

"Our best bet is to find him and crack his skull open in his sleep," Bear surmised before he interlocked his incredibly thick fingers and created a cacophony by cracking his knuckles.

"More or less," Isaac agreed. "Just in case we stumble across him early, we'll start moving in a more condensed group. Émile can mask the sounds of our movements so there shouldn't be much of a problem with that."

The girl in question clapped her hands together, expanding them outward to reveal a very girly but very fitting magic wand, complete with ribbon tassels. With a winking smile, she span the object in a circle over her head before flicking it forward to produce a splash of violet sparks. Sakasha didn't notice a difference immediately but after shifting her feet noisily along the forest floor, she realized that her disturbance was only as loud as a dull whisper.

After a few more comments and clarifications from the rest of the party, the group departed toward their objective - the small village. They arrived in good time, two minutes earlier than Sakasha's modest estimation. As earlier agreed, Cherry went to work searching for witnesses, gathering a few worthwhile sightings among other helpful bits of information. Each sighting shared similarities: The man had orange hair with a silver streak, had stopped in at the bakery to buy food and had left, hardly speaking a single word. Eye witnesses claimed he appeared absolutely exhausted - like he hadn't slept in days.

It would be a welcome boon if the man's exhausted look truly was from lack of sleep. He would need to rest eventually and if he slept a little longer it would merely give the group more time to catch up.

There was a brief stop to gather a handful of supplies from the same bakery as their target before they continued down the trail. Following the villager's directions, they latched onto an old hiking path that was hidden behind the cover of brush. Watcher and Sakasha both confirmed the man had been there with their own respective methods. Confirming their path, the group carried on as a single compact unit. They followed the trail until dusk, where signatures grew more and more recent. Footprints in damp soil, still depressed moss and moisture seeping broken branches.

As the day turned to dusk and dusk became night, the group carried on with their relentless march. Four hours into their night-covered walk, they spotted something and immediately regrouped in hiding to determine their next action.

Clumped behind a dense patch of bushes and thorns, Isaac pointed through a small crack near the earthen floor toward the glowing orange light. "Campfire up ahead. Whether it's our mark or not we need to be prepared," Sakasha was waiting for him to explain his plan, but instead, he looked around and cluelessly asked if anyone else had any ideas.

Obviously the enforcer wasn't used to working with a squad. Surprisingly, Whisper of all people added to the conversation, with their hands instead of their voice. A rounding, circular motion with both hands, the shape of a bird which fluidly blended into a cab-whistle, a countdown from three all ended with a collapsing motion from both hands again.

Most were confused, understandably so, but Sakasha managed to decipher their meaning. "Circle the perimeter, someone makes a bird call, we count down from three then collectively strike at the same moment," she explained, receiving an enthusiastic nod. "It's not a bad plan, though there aren't many birds who sing at night."

"I don't think he'd notice," Isaac was quick to dismiss with a wave of his hand. Looking at her dead in the eyes, he asked. "Do you know a bird call?"

"Didn't think learning bird calls would ever come in handy trying to kill someone, so no," Sakasha replied dryly.

"I might know one or two, probably not native birds here but it'll be good enough," Bear contributed, struggling to remain low with his top-heavy proportions.

"I hope it isn't too much trouble, but I'll be playing a passive role, supporting where I can instead of attacking directly," Jaques pointed out, running a wrinkled hand through his wiry hair.

Sakasha patted his shoulder to gather his attention. "You can tag along with me, those codes of yours might come in handy."

Isaac gathered the attention of everyone with his voice. "We've got a plan, now all we need to do is act on it. We'll be waiting on your signal, Bear, so confirm the target and give it. Everyone clear on what they need to do?" Getting sharp nods from everyone present, the order to break was given and the trained magi all split up to encircle their target.

… … …

It was him, unmistakably. He had made a makeshift camp just off the hiking path, somewhat out of eyeshot but not far enough. A pile of neatly chopped wood sat a healthy distance from a decent fire, though no ax was present. There wasn't a tent, but there was a bedroll which their mark had decided to take a nap upon.

For a man running from his supposed death, he had made a halfway decent camp, even having made preparations to stay for the entire night. Lying still on a ridge overlooking most of the small camp, Sakasha could see, even from a distance, that their exhausted mark was in a deep slumber.

A tugging at her elbow had Sakasha turning her head back toward Jaques, who was in a similar position a little bit behind. With a whisper, he handed her a small elongated diamond-like device. "If you get close enough, throw this at him but make sure not to miss. It should home in on the nearest target and inject pieces of specially designed metal I should be able to track."

Taking the offered object with a hum of appreciation, Sakasha realized that it was heavier than it appeared. "Pretty good thinking, hopefully, I can put it to good use." With some awkward movements, she slipped the device into the waistline of her jeans, clothing maintaining a tight squeeze.

Before they could continue their hushed conversation, a distant bird call set the woman's nerves alight. That was the signal, so she began counting down from three in her head, positioning herself to dart forward when the countdown ended.

Reaching zero, the woman erupted from the ridge, propelling herself forward with a concentrated blast of wind from the bottom of her feet. Upon reaching the ground, Sakasha spotted several familiar faces coming from various positions around the camp. Isaac, wielding an indiscernible weapon in both hands and Bear using nothing but his fists and reinforcement - evident by the glowing green lines covering the bare skin of his body.

In a second, they would be within melee distance, and their mark was in the midst of bolting upright. His mouth was moving to speak, but airborne metallic objects were already on their way overhead. They weren't blades or weapons as Sakasha would have expected from their mark, nor were they manifested within the air. The objects were thrown from the sidelines to rain down upon their mark.

There were two groups of these objects and Sakasha could barely differentiate the two as they rained down by the dozen. One group, a collection of thin needle-like barbs which would cover the entire area quite efficiently. The next was a dozen or so small blackened orbs, each of which produced a blinking red light and a subtle ear-piercing whine.

Halfway to standing, their mark focused on the closest target - Sakasha, which gave the woman a good look of his features. He had mostly orange hair, with a single white strand over the left eye, the same eye he had suffered a disgusting injury in. From his cheekbone moving upward, a long jagged scar dominated his face. It was relatively recent but had forgone treatment. As a consequence, it had bloated and leaked pus down the side of his face, a fluid which had started to cling to the skin and accumulate dust. His remaining good eye was latched onto Sakasha directly, bloodshot and full of wild survivalist instinct. Fear struck her dead on, but experience drove her forward. The two shared a look, and as he extended a hand to grip at the air, everything violently exploded.

The resulting pressure wave was enough to blast Sakasha onto her back and throw a considerable amount of smoke and dust into the air. Struggling to comprehend what had transpired, her senses returned in sequence. First her hearing; a ghastly screech that indicated severe damage. Next came her vision, popping into place from an abrupt darkness that sent a jarring pain to the front of her brain. Touch was the last to return, a pulsing ache focused entirely within her chest and skull.

Spinning her head around, all she could see was thick dust. Worried that their mark would make his exit if he was still standing, the woman forced both hands forward and released a torrent of air from her palms once more. Swinging her hands to cover the area, she efficiently blew away all the dust and revealed the campsite once more.

Isaac and Bear looked just as disoriented as she did, but their mark was already making his escape instead of trying to take them all on at once. "Just leave me the hell alone!" he shouted over his shoulder, limping toward the dense forest.

He had made a surprising distance during the confusion, but she could tell that he had taken a considerable amount of damage from the attack, or at least that was how it had seemed. The entire left side of his body seemed limp as if he were in the middle of a severe stroke. Squinting, Sakasha made note of the small needle-like pins in the limbs being affected, so they were poisoned in some way.

"Don't let him get away!" Isaac called, sprinting after their mark.

Sakasha had already been moving forward, but the glint of steel caught her eye in the direction of the mark. Widening, her head snapped to Isaac, who she haphazardly dove to tackle. Colliding with his body hadn't done as much as she wanted due to their difference in size, but another quick burst of wind to propel them both forward sent him onto the ground.

She had almost been too late, as weapons began streaming through where the man had been at unprecedented speed and number. Keeping her head down to shield her face, miniature explosions littered the campsite before a much larger one rocked the very earth and sent the surrounding trees quaking with the force's echo.

As the area fell silent, Sakasha cautiously lifted her head to check that everyone was still alive. Bear was still standing, but was partially wounded, no doubt by the fragments of the blasts. As for the campsite, calling it a smoking crater would be a more fitting description. The various weapons used to tear up the landscape had created large gaping holes in the earth, rendering the entire area an absolute mess.

Several of the trees were missing large sections or were so splintered that it was a miracle they remained standing. One, in particular, looked halfway to falling at any moment. A strong gust of wind would surely have been enough to topple it.

Sakasha couldn't tell how the other members of their party had fared, but she hadn't caught sight of them in the assault. They were likely hidden in the perimeter still, safe from the blasts.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" an irritated voice asked from beneath her. Hardly turning her head in time, two hands wrapped around her shoulders and forced her away with surprising roughness. "I was going to chase after him, he was wounded!" He shouted, stood and brushed himself off.

Sakasha was speechless. She risked her own life saving his from that torrent of weapons and this was how she was being thanked? Scowling heavily, the woman hoisted herself up as well. "I was saving your life, though if that's how you're going to be maybe I shouldn't have."

"Tsk, I could have handled it, my blades will deflect any mana-based attacks," he claimed, shaking his head indignantly.

"Maybe sh-"

"And where the hell is Watcher?" Isaac asked, cutting Bear off entirely as he nursed a nasty looking cut on his arm.

The rustling of leaves preluded a soft _whump_ as the man in questioned landed on the ground beside a tree. Huffing, he explained that he "didn't have enough time to get into position and when I was there, it was too late - sorry."

Isaac growled, placing his forehead atop his knuckles. "Of course, of course. The enforcers are prepared and make a coordinated, impactful strike while the freelancers fuck the dog and let our mark get away." Throwing his hand through the air, the man gazed longingly in the direction their mark had left. "All useless," he murmured while crossing his arms.

Sakasha opened her mouth to speak, but more rustling leaves and voices stopped her. "Did he get away? I couldn't see what happened very well," Cherry admitted, pulling a persistent thorn plant from her thigh as she approached.

"Bear are you alright? I tried to protect you but those things were really powerful!" Émile exclaimed, running toward the significantly larger man with wand in hand. She was incredibly concerned, and the two separated into their own conversation as the high-stress one just began with the rest of their group.

"Of course he got away. We've got eight members of this group but only four are useful. We're just as bad as the last guys they sent out to take this bastard down." Practically steaming with anger, Isaac ran a hand through his hair to remove the chunks of dirt that had found home there.

Struggling to clamber down the ridge Sakasha had been propped behind, Corvier stumbled into earshot. "Ah, aren't you being a little rash with the accusations?"

Isaac's neck nearly snapped with the speed his head turned. He raised a threatening, pointed finger and began shouting. "And _you_, senile old man, what the hell good are you if you're just going to sit around and watch?"

Sakasha spoke up again, standing up for the useful members of this group. Even though they couldn't see it, a mystic code crafter was an invaluable part of any team - given enough resources to make something that is. The most useless person of this team at that given moment was whoever had thrown all those explosive devices. "He _was_ being useful. Before we moved to engage, he gave me this-" she paused to withdraw the diamond shaped device. "-If I had gotten close enough, we could have used it to track him with precision. I might have been able to use it too if those explosives hadn't turned everything upside down."

Whisper raised their hand sheepishly over their lowered head, silently taking the blame for the act, though looking apologetic as they did. Isaac's eyes flickered between Whisper and Sakasha for a moment before he angrily approached with one hand outstretched, motioning with his hand and asking for her to "give it here" and to "let me see."

She could see the unbridled anger in his eyes, and she snapped her arm away to keep the device from his grasp. She struggled to keep him at bay as he insisted his interest in the device but she knew that she would be unable to keep him back forever. "If you throw it, I don't know what happens!" She warned, straining to keep it from his grasp.

As she had expected, he managed to force it from her grip and he immediately turned to fling the device high into the forest. Jaques, the creator of the device, worriedly scrambled to put himself on the other side of Isaac and the device he had just haphazardly thrown.

Turning his back to where he had thrown the object, the man outstretched his arms and offered a look of equal parts smug and enraged. "Fat load of good that hunk-of-junk did, eh?"

With a concerned look, Sakasha followed Jaque's lead and put some distance between herself and Isaac. If anybody knew what the creation could do, it was the creator. Typically, it was a good idea to follow the smartest person in the room and nobody would know better than Jaques.

That seemed to be the consensus of the group, as the other seven members slowly gathered around Jaques. They all watched as a still-fuming Isaac meandered about almost comically, exclaiming that nothing had happened and generally making an ass out of himself.

Unfortunately, because of how far he had gone from the group, nobody could warn him about the incoming projectile in time.


	3. Movement

**Howdy! If you're here from Fate: US, you're likely wondering _why_ I'm posting stuff when I'm supposed to be on hiatus. Well, I'm not actually in a hiatus until the end of October which is quickly approaching. And for those of you wondering why EoE _hasn't_ been updated for a while, well that's because this was always intended to be a fall-back in case I couldn't write Fate: US.**

**This is gonna be a short chapter, unfortunately. I've got some stuff planned for the next few chapters but I needed something as a stand-in until I could get there. Either way, I hope you enjoy this regardless.**

**Oh! I also haven't updated the character sheets. That's just because I didn't think that there was much to add in this chapter.**

**For those of you that enjoy seeing updates to this, you can thank my wonderful Beta for EoE: Berix. He's been badgering me to produce another chapter since the last one was released and his persistence finally got me to do it. Anyhow, I'll let you all read!**

* * *

"I don't think I've ever experienced more stupidity than I have in the past hour. Truly a crowning point for idiocy everywhere," Sakasha murmured, shaking her head in her hand. It was true, but only on a technicality. She typically worked alone or rather, she _always_ worked alone. Seeing those she was supposed to work alongside doing something so idiotic was mind-boggling on another level.

Perhaps this was the precise reason she _did_ end up working alone. Had she been in command of this group, she would have removed more than a handful for their simply foolish choices and stubborn mentality.

There was a soft wizened chuckle from her side and a lightly calloused hand was laid upon her shoulder. Snapping her head up to glare at the offender, Jaques, it was quickly removed out of fear. "At the very least, I discovered that my tracking serum works as hypothesized." Stuffing his hand down the open neck-hole of his shirt, the man removed a small white pad of paper. As if it responded to his gaze, a large bold arrow of black sketched itself on the surface. In the center, uncoloured by the sketchy shadowing were numbers, likely a designation of distance.

Turning in the direction of the arrow, Sakasha could see Isaac being worked on by Émile, leaned over a fallen log with his back bared to her instruments. From her side, Jaques gathered his attention with a shout. "Isaac, you'll be happy to know that you're precisely eight meters away right now!"

The snarl written on his face could have killed weaker men, but Jaques merely snickered. "If this shit didn't hurt so much, I'd go over there to run you through old ma- Ouch!" Interrupting himself, his body jolted and he turned his head to look at Émile with the same ferocity he had shown the aforementioned old man. Unlike Jaques, she cowered under his sight. "Do you think you could be a little more careful?"

"I'm sorry but this is hard and your voice keeps vibrating everything around!" she complained, tentatively returning to her work. With a borrowed dagger from Cherry and the tip of her magic wand, the woman was working with both hands to remove the injected fluid, but it was slow going.

Huffing in agitation, Sakasha sent a gaze around their mark's former camp. Watcher, Whisper, Cherry and Émile were all doing fine although that was to be expected considering they weren't in the direct line of fire. Sakasha herself had come out unscathed. The explosion had damaged her eardrums and deposited minor shrapnel in her clothing, but otherwise, she was fine. Bear had suffered some minor damage from the escaping barrage their mark had made but Émile was quick to restore what had been injured. Ironically, Isaac had been injured the most - by friendly fire of all things. To be fair, it had served him right for being such a stubborn fool.

"We're wasting time sitting here because of _his_ mistake," she murmured, sending Jaques a glance. "He's become a liability."

Tearing off the top sheet of paper on his makeshift compass, Jaques replaced the wad somewhere within his shirt. "Don't accuse me, my dear. I wasn't the one who let my frustration get the better of me," pausing, the man narrowed his soft eyes at their supposed leader. "Even after having his life spared, he's still ungrateful."

Considering asking what he meant, Sakasha was interrupted by someone saying her name. Turning to the perpetrator, she found Watcher on the approach. "Hey, mind having a walk-and-talk?" he asked.

Narrowing her eyes, the woman considered the intention behind such a request, passing Jaques a look which he reciprocated with confusion. Deciding there was no harm, she and Watcher took a small stroll out of the camp and down the path they had been travelling. Out of earshot of the other members, Garris relayed his intentions in the bluntest way possible. "What do you think about leaving the others behind to keep tracking?"

Sakasha blinked, then scrunched up her face in a scowl. "Are you suicidal? What happens when we find our mark alone? We'll just become two more obituaries, two more casualties."

"But if we have to wait for Isaac, we'll lose the tra-"

"It doesn't matter," she pointed out, putting most of her weight on one leg. "We can find the trail again, we can catch up. We _can't_ come back to life and we _can't_ survive against our mark without working together."

The man scoffed, turned his back to her and shook his head indignantly. "Right and what a good team we are. We barely managed to wound a guy who was asleep." Whipping around on his feet, he planted both hands on his hips and scowled harshly. "And what if we can't track him down before he reaches the coast, what then?"

Blinking slowly, Sakasha merely shrugged her shoulders. "He gets away, so what? We'll still have our lives and we can try again when he makes another appearance. It could take a decade, but the Mage's Association isn't going to let him get away easily."

Watcher pointed a finger at her face accusingly and the woman immediately soured. "And how would you know something like that? You know, you might play the cool and collected part but inside I think you're just some pissant magus who's just scared."

Raising one eyebrow, Sakasha merely turned to make her way back to the camp. "Believe what you want, it doesn't make a difference in the end so long as you pull your own weight." An aggravated noise sounded from behind and a soft rustling was all the warning she got. Leaning and twisting her body to the side, a fist flew by the side of her head, clipping her ear as it passed. Rather than perform some convoluted pin maneuver, Sakasha merely stepped backward into the man and reared her elbow directly into his abdomen.

The impact of her meagre weight did little, but the strike against a vulnerable spot pushed him back somewhat. Spinning on her heels, Sakasha forced both of her palms outward to send the man flying backward with a wall of compressed wind.

Ignoring his deranged cries, Sakasha resumed her original objective of returning to camp. She didn't take this job to babysit or prove herself, if she wanted a job like that, she would have stayed back in Israel with her mother.

Returning to the camp, she found Isaac standing upright, rolling his shoulders in obvious pain. Spotting her approach, the man shot her an aggressive glare. "There you are. Cherry said you and Watcher made off together into the forest." Throwing on his shirt, the enforcer cracked his knuckles methodically one after another. "I think your focus would be better directed toward our mark, rather than copulation."

Rolling her eyes, Sakasha approached him directly. "If you're ready, we should get moving onto our mark's trail. He's likely exhausted, so he may try to make camp again. I'll lead so we don't lose his path."

Taken aback, the man crossed both arms over his chest. "He must have given you quite the boost in confidence. I think you're forgetting who runs this operation."

From the side, an abnormally large man cleared his throat. "Isaac, the rest of us were talking and we were thinking-"

Snapping his head to look at his former friend, Isaac's face went flush. "So you'd rather follow an inexperienced freelancer than me, is that it?" Spinning his head around to find each of the other party members slowly assembling around the point of commotion; he found either apathy or subtle agreement with the notion. Pursing his lips, the man shot Sakasha a steep glower. "You know what, fine. But if you get us lost," he paused, searching for a threat that would placate her. "You'll have to carry all of our equipment."

Regardless of what he decided to say, Sakasha knew exactly what he _wanted_ to say. It was obvious, he would have her killed if she didn't do everything perfectly. Not only would it remove her from his life, but it would also increase his own take-home pay, a certifiable win-win no matter how it was viewed. "Sounds fine to me," she agreed. As she had expected, a clamorous rustling sounded from behind. She knew it was Watcher and the man hardly deserved a glance from her.

"This bitch attacked me!" He shouted, predictably.

Isaac's face lit up, a scheming mind giving birth to a thousand ideas. Before he could enact one of them, a sharp but muffled clapping noise sounded from the same direction as Watcher. It was enough to actually interest Sakasha into turning in his direction.

She immediately spotted Whisper approaching from behind the larger man. They were holding their arms above their head in a large cross and vehemently shaking their head. After realizing that they had everyone's attention, they pointed an accusing, gloved finger at Watcher.

Bear crossed his two log-like arms across his chest. "Seems like Whisper thinks you're lying." Turning his large head in Saksha's direction, he awaited her side of the story.

Rolling her eyes, Sakasha stuffed both hands into the pockets of her jacket. Even from a distance, she could see the glimpse of worry in Watcher's eyes as the fear of their private conversation being publicized struck simultaneously. "It was as you said, Isaac. Watcher figured I was an easy mark for his game and I refused. Things got a little violent when he refused to let up."

Watcher visibly flinched but recovered his composure in record time. Isaac merely produced a noise of contempt before proclaiming his belief in Sakasha's recollection over Watcher's. The other's sided with her as well, though Whisper - the one who had apparently witnessed the event in question - was looking rapidly between the two with blatant confusion.

Watcher opened his mouth to speak but decided against it entirely. With a soft tsk, he quickly turned around on his heels and walked off into the treeline, sending a sharp glare toward Whisper as he did.

Whisper stared helplessly at Sakasha, but the woman herself merely furrowed her brow as a subtle signal for them to stop trying to look into things. "Well, you know what they say about guilty parties and leaving the scene," Cherry sighed. "Are we going to keep wasting time or are we moving out?"

Sakasha turned her head enough to keep Isaac at the edges of her peripheral vision. "If I'm leading, we'll move out as soon as we can - full party or not."

"You're leaving Mr. Watcher behind?" Émile quickly asked, popping into sight with a shocked expression.

"Not entirely. Watcher's good enough to track us down when he gets over his temper-tantrum," Sakasha explained before turning to face Isaac and most of the group fully. With everyone's concerns handled, the entire squad agreed to move out as quick as they could, setting their path along the same one their target made during his departure.

With Sakasha as lead, they were able to make surprising ground. As their mark was hasty when fleeing the scene, he left numerous signals and clues related to his direction of travel.

For a man so notable in the magus community, he was surprisingly lacking in any sort of deceptive skill. In fact, he was lacking in every skill that wasn't related to combat. For someone so intimidating to the Clock Tower, their complementary skills were entirely void.

As expected, Watcher rejoined the group when they were some distance out from their former impromptu camp. They encountered a second, even more barren campsite that was little more than a trodden spot in the grass after two hours of travelling. From that point on, tracking grew more difficult; though the signs their target has left were still noticeable enough for Sakasha.

While it had been a long night without rest, a handful had gotten sleep during the time spent healing Isaac. For those unable to find sleep on their own, Émile restored their energy through magecraft. It was not as efficient or fulfilling as a full night's rest, but it was good enough for their purposes. Adrenaline would fill the spaces that lack of sleep left vacant.

The entire group was determined to keep hot on the trail of their mark. If they maintained an aggressive tail, the worn-down man would either succumb to his progressively worsening condition or lie down to rest and provide them with another opportunity to strike.

Sakasha couldn't decide which scenario would be more advantageous but was running tentative plans through her mind for both regardless. If she was given the option to establish an attack plan, they might actually have a chance at taking down their mark. They had power and ability - what they were lacking was coordination and teamwork. Another slip like their last one could easily spell their downfall - they were lucky to catch a break the first time.

There was a tapping on her shoulder that distracted her thoughts and sent her turning around to face a significantly calmer Isaac. His tone was level and quiet as if he was purposefully trying to keep their conversation private. "Whisper's been trying to tell me something but I can't figure it out worth a damn. Did something happen between you and Watcher that you aren't telling me?"

Silently cursing the other enforcer, Sakasha hoped a repeat of her original lie would dissuade him from looking into things further. Whisper was bad enough with their eavesdropping but if Watcher worked with her to uphold her original lie, they might be able to discredit anything Whisper tried to say.

"I've told you once, why do I have to tell you again?"

Isaac's face soured but rapidly returned to neutrality as if it were forced. "I guess you don't. I always figured that guy was sleazy, guess I just underestimated it. Never was a good read of character." The man reached behind his head to scratch at the short hair on his neck. "Anyway, that was all I wanted to ask, keep doing what you're doing."

Sakasha mentioned his name, keeping his attention for a little while longer. "Pull Émile up to the front here, I'd like her opinion on some of the calls."

The man-made a sharp noise of obvious offence before calming himself down again. Isaac was making a deliberate effort to keep his temper controlled after his previous outburst. "Sure, whatever you want."

Within a few minutes, the short, bright girl appeared with energy easily eclipsing all the other members of their party combined. "You wanted me, Sasha?"

The assassin narrowed her eyes. "Sasha?"

Nodding enthusiastically, the girl spun on her heels with her arms extended as if pretending to be an airplane. "Ah-huh. It's a nickname, do you like it?"

Raising one eyebrow and focusing forward, Sakasha shrugged. "Call me what you like. I wanted you up here to help track our mark and keep me company."

There was a short questioning inhale. "I don't know how to track so- wait, you want company?"

"Just because I work alone doesn't mean I'm antisocial," Sakasha smirked. "You're the only one here I could talk to without worry and I'm sure you've got stories of your own. And when we aren't chatting, you can try out an idea I've had that might speed up our rate of travel."

The magical girl produced a long uncertain hum while matching the pace of her taller partner. "I've got a lot of stories I guess, but none are really killy or stabby like yours."

"I've got stories that don't have death in them," Sakasha defended, narrowing her eyes to catch a bent live branch. As they had been for some time, the signs of motion were getting progressively more subtle. Soon enough the party's pace would slow as she struggled to discern true clues from false leads. Once she reached that point, she could test her theory with Émile.

For now, she could do something simpler. "Tell me a story, Émile."

* * *

**Like I said - short and sweet!**

**Remember to favourite, follow and write a review. I got good feedback from the first few chapters so I'll still keep this fic active for when I can't write US.**


	4. Princess

**It's been a while. I told everyone that this would be a side project for when I got stuck on F:US but that isn't entirely the case this time. My beta, Talndir, appears to be held up with life things so I've just been patiently waiting for him to return and edit the next two chapters of F:US that I've got done.**

**In the meantime I'll just be working away at this I suppose!**

* * *

Deep inhale, steady exhale. It was a simple, methodical rhythm that was required to keep her focused on the task at hand.

Opening her eyes, the girl peered through the diamond shape being made with her hands. There was no light, no visual change at all; she had failed. Despite her best efforts, the half-healed wound was still there, taunting her with its existence.

Sighing, the girl dropped her hands and grumbled in defeat. "How is it coming along, sweetheart?" A deep, calm voice asked from behind. Turning to look, a warm hand landed on her shoulder, squeezing comfortably.

His hair was long and thick and a shocking bright blonde. A long strand stuck out from a split upon the top of his head to droop down in front of his face and tickle his lower lip. He had a soft face with gleaming blue eyes set in a half-squint due to a permanent natural smile he always seemed to hold.

It was her father, just as how she remembered him. Since it was warmer than normal, he had forgone his usual black windbreaker and wore a partly open white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It was tucked into his pants, revealing a silver buckle that worked well to offset the black jeans.

The girl puffed out her cheeks. "Awful. I just can't get it no matter what I do."

Her father laughed, lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. "You're doing very well for your age, sweetheart. Reinforcement might be simple, but to do it so well at your age is commendable."

Still pouting and grumbling, the girl beamed up at her father with equal parts resentment and embarrassment over the compliments. Laughing jovially, the man removed his hand and kneeled to the ground beside his daughter. "Try to imagine the wound healing and focus on transferring mana through your hands. Our magic stimulates the victim's injury and accelerates their own body, so all you need to do is give them a little boost."

The man closed his eyes and lifted his hands exactly how hers had been over the wound. Immediately, a soft green glow bathed the injured man's skin and small strands of silver extended from her father's hand like suturing wire.

Watching with veneration, the wound steadily closed itself until it disappeared from sight entirely. Opening her mouth and releasing a small noise of wonderment, her father could only smile. "You have a long time to learn, I wouldn't feel bad about not being perfect at it your first - or even hundredth - try."

Marginally reassured, she couldn't help but feel disheartened over how easy he had made it seem. "I'm never going to be as good as you," she complained, crossed both arms over her chest and sulked.

Her father laughed but it was more awkward than amused. "I think you've had enough field training, why don't we let our patient rest. You go back to studying my old books?"

Spinning around on the chair, the girl kicked off to land on the clinical tile below. Walking toward the door to leave the infirmary, she looked at the dozens of injured people rendered magically unconscious and wondered what sort of lives they all had and how they had ended up here.

Reaching the end of the room, the girl struggled to push the heavy door open but managed despite her size. Swinging open, the unnaturally clean room gave way to a conversely cozy abode with windows for natural lighting and modest but comfortable furniture. It was far from any sort of reception area for a hospital or clinic, it was just a home; her home.

Outside on the other end of the windows was the German countryside; A smattering of trees, a small light use road and a wide valley that held a town some distance away along the bottom.

Trailing through as she had down so many times before, the girl reached her room and plopped herself down at a small desk overloaded with well-used journals and notebooks, one of which was opened to a diagram illustrating the very same hand position she and her father and used moments prior.

With a small noise of exhaustion, the girl planted her face on the book and closed her eyes, hoping to absorb the information via transmigration.

When nothing happened for some time, she sat back up in her chair and flipped back to the start of the book. If she had failed to perform any sort of magic, she had obviously misunderstood some key component of the earlier notes. Maybe if she reread her father's books extra carefully, she would be able to get it right the next time.

… … …

… … …

Inhale, exhale, focus on transferring mana.

Opening her eyes, the small cut remained. With a noise of frustration, the girl threw back her head and sent the high stool she was sitting on toppling over backwards.

She cried out, but something stabilized the chair abruptly mid-fall and stopped her before she could get hurt. "You should try to be more careful, sweetheart."

Peering up so far that it might as well have been upside down, her father's smiling face stared back at her. The sight was far more concerning for her as she wasn't supposed to be in the patient room. "H-how long have you been watching?"

The natural smile on his face widened. "Since you left your room. I was going to stop you, but the look of determination on your face made me believe you could really do it this time."

The fact that he had known what she was doing only magnified her feeling of dread. "Am I in trouble?"

The man laughed and gently pushed up her chair so it could sit balanced on four legs again. "Of course not. You didn't do anything wrong and nobody got hurt." Kneeling partly to get to her eye-level, he stared thoughtfully into her eyes. "Once you're older, all of these patients will look to you for help. I'm so proud that you're trying so hard to get a head start."

Feeling a radiating warmth from his compliments, she lowered her head and nervously grasped at her own hands. "I'm just trying to help. You're always so busy and after-"

She trailed off. Memories about her mother and father working to help injured people flickered by like aged tape on a faulty projector. Her father always had a smile, but it was just a little bit more genuine when her mother was around.

"I know, sweetheart." Reassuringly, the man stood and planted a hand on her head. The smile on his face wavered somewhat, turning sour and malevolent if only for the briefest moment. "But things will get better."

… … …

… … ...

A loud bang sent her head up from the desk. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, the girl realized that she had passed out studying.

Another odd noise sent her looking through her open door. There were voices that weren't her father's shouting words she couldn't understand. Curiously, she leapt from her desk and into the hall that led toward the living room and entranceway. At the corner, she stopped as the sound of her father's voice in another language as well.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, we have taken the utmost care to-"

Peeking around the corner, she tried to determine who was speaking. "Regardless of what you've done or what you believe to have done, the outcome is the same." The sharp sounding response had come from a strange man standing in front of her father. He wore a fine suit in a foreign style that matched the rest of his strange features.

Two more men stood a short distance behind him on either side, both if which wore similar clothes but different, equally as foreign features.

They were obviously from another country, but what was he doing here? Unable to understand the words being spoken, she had to try and decipher their meaning through the emotion in their voice. "I promise you that all precautions have been taken to ensure that my patients do not understand the process of their healing."

The foreign man snorted and crossed both arms over his chest. "Obviously it wasn't enough, otherwise we wouldn't be here." Her father was silenced and the man took the time to peer around the home. "Quite a large place for a single person." His head moved to pan over her and she quickly darted behind the corner out of sight.

"I'm not a humble man, I like my home spacious," her father chuckled weakly before clearing his throat.

The foreigner made an agreeing noise, something she could understand, though what he was agreeing to was beyond her. Peeking out from around the corner with more care, she watched the foreign man pace around her home and run his fingers across various surfaces. "You _do_ understand why we are here, yes? Even the most baseless rumour of magic among the common people must be investigated."

"And should you find any credibility, your purge everyone who happened to know, I know how Enforcer's work."

The foreigner made a condescending hiss. "Then you're remarkably calm. Perhaps that is because you understand your position."

"My position?"

"You have a rare gift, Mr. Ziegler. Very few magi can claim to have the level of prowess in healing that you do. To bring people back to a healthy state from the brink of death in such a timely manner is rather extraordinary."

Her father's voice darkened. "Is that what this is about?"

The foreigner laughed in a way that made her feel uneasy. "Perhaps. As you know, we Enforcers are merely ordered to fulfill a contract by any means necessary. Had this been an ordinary job, we would have slaughtered you, your patients and everyone who had ever heard your name."

"What's stopping you?"

The foreigner hummed thoughtfully and faced her father with an evil grin. "Let's say it's the goodness of my heart." Taking a deep nasally inhale, the foreigner clasped both hands behind his back. "We're offering you a position at the Clock Tower."

"As a sealing designate?"

"As something similar," the foreigner corrected. "Your ability is not something detrimental, but it is highly valuable. Obviously the key rests within you, as your departed child showed no potential."

"Don't speak about her like that," her father growled, surprising the girl as the smile on his face vanished in an instant.

The foreigner made a cluck with his tongue. "Looks like I touched a nerve. Perhaps it was a good thing in the end; if she was alive, you wouldn't be so valuable."

The girl darted behind the corner again, trying to determine what was going on just by the tone of their voices. A hundred questions ran through her mind. The foreigners were speaking as if her father was in trouble, but what could he have done? They never left the house and all they did at home was help sick people get better. Hearing the voices grow louder and angrier, the girl struggled to make a decision.

She stepped out from around the corner and released a questioning: "Papa?"

All at once, four sets of eyes snapped to her as if she had appeared out of thin air. The girl could only focus on her father's face and how his permanent smile had been replaced with shock and fear.

The foreigner spoke, but still, she couldn't understand a word. Uncertainly, she looked to her father for some sort of guidance but he merely motioned for her to approach quickly. Obeying, she moved to his side where he quickly shuffled her behind his legs. "Just let me talk, sweetheart," was all he said before resuming whatever conversation he was having with the strange men.

The conversation grew heated quickly and without warning, the foreign men began shouting. Despite the increase in tension, her father held a reserved tone. In an especially heated part, the foreigner pointed directly at her.

She was confused, but soon the three people turned and walked themselves out as if nothing had happened, leaving her and her father standing in the living room.

As the front door slammed shut, a large hand rested on her shoulder which brought her eyes upward. "Are you hungry?"

… … …

Her father had worked incredibly hard that night. He had worked until her bedtime fixing and sending away as many people as he could. Even after tucking her into bed he had gone straight back to work like a machine. Where they had been near capacity the day prior, only a dozen or so people remained at her bedtime of nine.

Stranger still was that he had told her to sleep in his room. The last time she had was during a thunderstorm where the entire house shook like a branch in the wind.

She obeyed regardless, finding her father's bed much more comfortable than her own which led to a quick drift into sleep.

Then a noise woke her in the middle of the night. It had been soft but irritating; a crackling and soft tinkling noise from one of the other rooms. Sitting up in bed and listening closely, the noises sounded as if they were coming from her room just through the wall.

Rubbing her eyes and leaping out of bed, the girl plodded across the cool floor toward the door. Trying the handle, she found that it wouldn't move at all. Even after trying to force it, the knob would not twist. For her own sanity, she tried simply pushing on the door but it was closed undoubtedly. There was a small turning knob on the handle itself but it was stuck in place as well. Calling out for her father, she wondered if he had locked her in for some odd reason.

When she received no answer beyond the same soft tinkling noise from the other room, her worry began to grow. Maybe there was an explanation for it all. Maybe her father had gone back to work after tucking her in and he had fallen asleep in exhaustion. Maybe he had locked her in to make sure she wouldn't try healing any of the patients by herself.

But something told her neither was the case and a clunk of heavy boots on hardwood from her room next door certified her assumption.

Neither she or her father wore shoes in the house and only booted footsteps could make noises like the ones coming from the next room. Stepping back from the door, she listened closely as the footsteps entered the hall and neared the door she had just tried to open.

They slowly continued before stopping outside. There was a soft click as the knob was tested from the other side. Originally upset, she became thankful that the door had been locked. Wrapping both arms around herself for personal safety, a sudden bang echoed through the room as something slammed against the door.

Jumping on the spot, the girl stumbled back and grew panicked as the door suffered several more rough impacts.

Another step back sent her into her father's night table, rattling the lamp and clock on top and solidifying the fact she was trapped. A scream bubbled up in her throat but before it could release, the impacts abruptly stopped at the sound of a sharp snap.

Holding her breath, the other side of the door remained silent. The scream in her throat replaced itself with a beckon for her father. It was unable to actualize still, as several snaps and cracks echoed through the walls. Firing in rapid succession, a second set of noises joined in and the cracks became floor shaking.

Panicking, the girl hastily examined the room to find some sort of hiding place from whatever was on the other side of the door. The only spot she could see was beneath the bed. Hitting the floor and squeezing beneath the small gap, she cowered in the darkness and placed both hands to cover her ears as the noises only got more destructive.

She had no idea how long the blasts lasted, but there was a point where something had actually breached the door to the room. The noises grew louder, the air grew hot and something deeper in the house sounded like rice krispies.

There was a large boom that shook the house to the point where the girl wondered if everything would come down around her, though thankfully it didn't. After the explosion, she noticed that the intensity and speed of the following noises were less than before.

They were even quiet enough that she could remove her hands from her ears without being in pain. Hearing unbidden, the popping and crackling grew more noticeable, though the heat remained.

Abruptly, the last few noises faded away and left a soft crackling behind. It took a while for the girl to build the confidence to roll out from beneath the bed, but she managed after a few minutes.

The room before she had hidden and the room after were entirely different. The door had been blown in and one of the hinges had been torn from the frame, leaving it hanging limply at an angle that threatened to wrench the other hinge out at well. The same blast had disturbed nearly everything else in the room as well. The lamp on the night table had fallen and shattered, the window to the side of the bed had been blown outwards and minor debris had been strung across every surface.

Hesitantly stepping toward the door, she let out a miserable call for her father, hoping he was still in the house or even alive. Sniffling, she wondered what the flickering orange glow on the hallway wall could be before realizing all at once that it was fire.

Her home was on fire. It had only taken a lung full of wooden smoke to realize it for sure.

On the other side of the door, half-burnt and half solid, were the remains of a person. It was horrifying to look at but her eyes could not be torn from the mortifying sight. Closing her eyes tight, a smiling face popped into her mind and reminded her of what was important above all else. She knew the body wasn't her father from their pants - her father never wore black dress pants - and after opening her eyes she moved on. Even though she had managed to move onward, the imagery of that mutilated corpse wouldn't leave her mind.

She was no stranger to dead bodies. Sometimes the patients her father took on were too far gone or it cost too much for him to fix their problems. The girl had seen dozens of bodies but they typically didn't have any external damage.

Ahead, the entire door frame had separated from the wall and been pushed into a collapsed room. The interior was blazing away but she could still remember entering the former storage room earlier that day.

Skittling past the scorching flames to avoid being burned, the girl entered the living room to find her entire home on the edge of falling apart. Every piece of furniture had been either broken, flipped over, thrown across the room or destroyed beyond description. Smouldering pits, patches of ice, gaping holes, shards of metal, porcelain and _feathers_ were thrown around the room sporadically as if by a blind contemporary artist.

Three more bodies were spread across the floor, or were there four… or five?

Pieces of one had been liberally deposited across the room, spreading blood gore and pieces she couldn't entirely comprehend in every direction. They all lead back to a single smoking hole where the kitchen table had been. Instead of furniture, a pile of something unable to be considered human remained.

Grimacing and moving on, she found two intact but nearly obscured forms in the center of a cleared patch in the center. One she recognized immediately, and he was still breathing.

Scrambling through the war zone that was her former living room, she tried to get a good look at him while struggling to traverse dangerous sections of the floor. He didn't seem to have many injuries and all of his parts were intact but at the same time his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. What could have possibly caused so much damage and hurt him so badly?

Looking toward the other intact body, she recognized that man as well; it was the same foreigner that had been in her house earlier that day.

Stumbling in her path momentarily as the knowledge and difficult conditions got to her, she refocused on her father and reached his side. On the last step, her foot landed on something sharp and her meagre weight forced it through the skin. Making a cry of pain and throwing out her arms to catch herself, she was forced to use her unconscious father to break the fall.

The impact was enough to startle him awake evidently as he gasped to life and quickly wrapped his hand around her wrist. He squeezed tight but as the two locked eyes his grip faded and a broken smile split across his face.

Without a second thought, the girl wrapped both arms around his neck and pressed against him in an attempt at being comforting. Her father was alive. She didn't know what had happened or why the foreigners had attacked them but at the very least he was alive.

"Sweetheart," her father began, having to clear his throat twice before resuming. "I don't think I'm going to make it."

Motioning with his hand, he pointed to a freely bleeding deep wound in his side. Feeling her breath catch in her throat at the sight, she stumbled back, remembering a similar injury on one of the patients they had treated. It hadn't been pleasant then and it worse knowing the current patient was her father.

"No," she murmured shaking her head and throwing lilac hair in every direction. "You can't die, I won't let you."

The girl set her face in determination before kneeling on the ground and focusing on the bleeding wound. He had lost a lot of blood, but his consciousness meant he wasn't about to die. She needed to act, she needed to help.

She had been useless helping with healing before but she could make up for it all by healing now, she had to. Setting her hands to form a diamond above the injury, she closed her eyes and focused, closing off the environment around her.

The crackling of fire, the groaning of the house as weight shifted against poor supports all faded away into perfect silence.

She was focused, she had to be so she could save her father's life.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Transfer mana from her body to accelerate the patient's healing.

With the noises of the environment closed off, she could hear a soft buzzing and see green against the outsides of her eyelids.

It was working, she was helping!

Had she finally unlocked something after all this time that allowed her to heal? Had it been the new level of pure focus?

Opening her eyes in shock, she was even more surprised to find that the green light wasn't coming from her own hands but her father's.

A single hand of his was being held over her foot, healing the minor injury she received on her path to him. "You tried at least," he chuckled weakly.

Tears she hadn't known she had been holding streamed out of the corner of her eyes at the realization that her father would pass and she could do nothing to help despite trying so hard. Her father made a gentle shushing and used the back of his hand and thumb to wipe the tears away from her face. He inadvertently spread blood and soot across the spot but the sentiment meant the same. "Maria, you have to listen alright?"

His hand rested against the side of her face and she shakily reached up to cover it with her own. "No, you're not going to die, you'll be alright."

"Just listen to me please," he begged, voice and face holding a soft edge despite the pain he was undoubtedly experiencing. "Maria, you have to leave here and leave me behind." Taking a deep breath, he explained the situation briefly, touching on the Enforcers and who they were, why they were after them and what they would do if she were to be found. "I know it will be hard, but you have to leave your life behind, change your name and start a new life." His hand fell from her face to grip her hand. "I'm sorry, I wish I could have watched you grow up but obviously the world had other things in mind."

The tears flowed freely and a sob forced its way from her chest. "I can't-"

"You're a magus just like I am which means surviving comes much easier." He squeezed her hand but it was far weaker than she was used to. "In the closet of my room is a bag I packed for you, it should have everything you might need. Take it and go," he urged, letting his hand slip free of hers.

Shaking her head indignantly, the girl began to protest his orders but was silenced as her own father gently shook his head. "Go now before the house falls down, please." The begging tone in his voice and the depressed smile on his face sank her heart into her stomach. She took a step back, grasping at her own hand as she gave him a hopeful look that he would stand and go with her.

When he didn't, she realized that he really wanted her to leave without looking back. She shuffled to make her way back to the hallway but a look over her shoulder made her aware that her initial path back to her father's room was blocked by spreading flames.

Looking around the room for a new path, she found one, though it went past the body of the last foreigner. One last glance at her father was left unreciprocated. He had closed his eyes softly but held onto his saddened smile. Moving past her father, she stepped around the other dead body and reached a wall she could trace the perimeter of to reach the hall.

Before she could move past the body, something behind her made a noise and gripped her ankle. Screaming in fear, the girl fell onto her hands and knees as her unbalanced weight sent her toppling over.

Looking back, she spotted the foreigner holding onto her limb, squeezing tight with a look of unbridled anger burning in his brown eyes. Through cracked lips that held bits of debris from his former position on the ground, he spoke in a raspy tone. As it was still in a different language, she couldn't understand a single word but by the malice, in his tone, she understood it was anything but good.

His grip snapped off her ankle to move higher, grabbed her knee and squeezed to cause great pain. With a rough yank, she was drug from her hands across the debris-covered floor.

Screaming and trying to kick her captured leg in vain, another hand landed on the back of her head and forced it into the ground.

Feeling sharp pressure as he applied more weight, his voice neared her ear and spoke in a low threatening tone. It would have been far more frightening had she understood any of it, but the situation was enough to scare her nearly to death.

Kicking and squirming did nothing, but it didn't mean she couldn't try. The pressure on her skull increased with each thrash. There was a point where her limbs merely moved autonomously as her brain struggled to comprehend how her skull hadn't been crushed.

Until the voice in her ear abruptly croaked and the weight was lifted off her immediately. Scrambling away as an immediate headache pounded within her skull, she peered back to find her father sitting in the strange man's chest. His hand was jammed against the foreigner's face, causing the stranger to scream in pain for some unseen reason.

Then she noticed the green glow. Why was her father healing someone who had tried to hurt her? As the question entered her mind, a horrific growth began bulging from the man's skull, tearing open flesh and splitting the skin, revealing a swelling bulb of _bone_. It grew rapidly and after growing to the size of two fists, it slowed dramatically and started to reveal glowing green lines as if it were cracking and about to split.

It did, explosively.

With a loud pop, the stranger's skull deflated like a balloon and his struggle ceased in the same instance. Her father remained seated on his chest, panting heavily as he allowed the arm on the foreigner's face to relax.

He turned to look at her and with a weak smile said, "you're safe now," before rolling off the man clumsily onto a cleaner patch of the floor. The girl was far more concerned with him than the foreigner and watched as he weakly raised one hand. "If you could do anything for me, promise me that you'll always be my little princess."

The girl blinked; wet eyes struggling to see clearly. She sniffled, nodded and promised with a weak voice. "I'm glad," he murmured, placing his hand over his injury while closing his eyes once more. "Now go before the building collapses."

… … …

… … …

… … …

Blue eyes blinked several times before a soft hand rubbed the disturbance-free. With a bouncing spin, the girl peered back toward her larger compatriot and shot out a beaming smile.

With an equally enthusiastic voice, she spread out her arms and finished her tale. "And after that, I found the Fountain of Youth and I've been like this ever since!"

It hurt.

It hurt to lie about her life with such a bubbly story that obscured all the suffering she had gone through.

It hurt to make a mockery of her father by glazing over his death and making it all seem inconsequential.

But he had wanted her to be a princess forever. She had listened, she had obeyed his last wish.

Sakash made a soft noise with her mouth. "A little too cutesy for me but it wasn't that bad of a story."

A hand landed on her head, patting twice before walking past further down the trail. "You got any more? Maybe something a little darker?"

Sakasha passed and without a set of eyes watching her face, Èmile let the joy in her face disappear. Something darker? She had lots of nonfiction that was dark, especially during her younger years when she was living alone.

She discovered that choosing who one lived with was one of the most important decisions she could make; especially when some people only wanted to do unspeakable things to her.

Snapping around and bringing happiness to her features, the girl jogged forward to catch up to Sakasha. "Nope, all of my stories are happy!"

The assassin hummed. "Tell me another one then, anything would help pass the time at this point."

So she did.

And she did it with the same enthusiasm that her appearance would make people expect. She had to, not only because she enjoyed being that type of person, but because she wanted to spread a little happiness and joy so that nobody would have to experience the things she had.

She had accepted the contract for the same reason. She knew their mark's story, she knew the pain he had endured and it _far_ more exceeded her own. The girl hoped that she would be able to talk to him and convert his perspective to match that of her own but if he was too far gone for that, the only option left was to end his suffering mercifully.

Bouncing alongside the much more reserved woman, Èmile threw on a brilliant grin. "Alrighty, do you want to hear about the time I got lost in the Clock Tower underground? A friend and I were stuck there for-" The girl abruptly cut herself off as her eyes landed on a subtle disturbance in the branches of the nearby trees.

Normally, the coverage was thick, uniform and undisturbed but there was a small hole where it looked as if someone had darted through the brush without a care for being stealthy about it. Lifting a finger and bouncing on the spot, Èmile pointed toward the spot.

"Sasha look!"

With an audible huff, the woman stopped and turned around. "It's _Sakasha_, not _Sasha_." Approaching, she stood at her side and followed her finger to the point of interest. "Good eyes, squirt," the girl mumbled while lending a hand on the top of her height deficient comrade.

Èmile beamed as the assassin investigated the disturbance with a careful eye. Sakasha turned around and directed the girl to stay on their former trail, waiting for the next member of their group. She would relay directions of their new path so nobody got separated and movement remained consistent.

If Èmile were to make a guess, there were less than five hours of walking distance between their current location and their mark's expected destination along the coastline. Considering their mark was on the literal run, they likely had less than three hours before their window was slammed shut.

They were running short on time.

* * *

**I hope you all enjoyed that chapter. A little bit of backstory for the characters and such you know.**

**I don't have much else to say, so as always, favourite follow and don't forget to write those reviews!**


	5. Character Sheet

**As suggested by a kind reviewer, I've compiled a dossier list of the known characters to make it easier on you all. This will ALWAYS be the LAST chapter, so any new additions to Edge of Eternity will require you to go BACK to the chapter BEFORE this last one. Makes sense? Great! **

**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE MOST RECENT CHAPTER, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.**

**These will be updated as the story progresses to reveal more that is known and provide some extras for the fanatical. Each new paragraph to a character will represent new information revealed with each chapter - some chapters may reveal backstory secrets. ****I will NOT be adding the full descriptions of each character, I believe that much should be easy to remember! :)**

* * *

… … …

* * *

… … …

* * *

… … …

* * *

**Enforcers**

**Isaac Bloome**

**Height: **5'8"

**Weight: **172 pounds

**Age: **28

**Place of Birth: **Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

**Sex: **Male

**Skillset: **Close combat, spiritual evocation, spiritual binding, mana construction

**Body Type: **Average - Athletic

**Eye Colour: **Hazel

The "leader" of the Enforcers, if you could even call him that much. While he might appear cool, confident, and controlled, underneath that outer shell is a man at his breaking point. Born in Sarajevo, his family relocated to London early in his childhood and Isaac now considers Britain his homeland, like most enforcers. Few historical details are known but Sakasha managed to dig up some very intriguing notices from a casino regarding overdue, overdraft markers. If he had a reason to take this mark - it was bound to be that.

Isacc is a user of spiritually bound weaponry. Unlike projection magecraft which creates copies of existing objects, spiritually bound weaponry exists on its own as compressed mana. It is the representation of the user's "ideal weapon type." It is a form of item creation significantly faster than mystic code creation with durability far exceeding projection magecraft - the best of both worlds. Due to the amount of time it requires to master such an ability - decades for most magi - such an ability was deemed too inefficient by the general magical world. Being an exception to this feature, Isaac mastered spiritual weaponry in a mere decade.

History has a way of biting back later in life. Sakasha was quick to dig into the history of her supposed leader, sending a handful of trusted contacts to retrieve what they could on his past. The list of events that came here was was stunning but considering who Isaac was it was far from unexpected. The man had an extensive list of debts to dozens of organizations, magi and mere normal humans across all of Europe. It seemed as if he had gone from country to country, exhausting his options borrowing money before moving on to the next. Where the money went was always the same: Gambling. Throwing hundreds of thousands of dollars toward random chance seemed to be Isaac's way of having fun or perhaps it was how he coped with something even worse earlier in his life.

**Ryzen "Bear" Lombardi**

**Height: **6'4"

**Weight: **301 pounds

**Age: **34

**Place of Birth: **Alice Springs, Australia

**Sex: **Male

**Skillset: **Hand-to-hand combat, reinforcement

**Body Type: **Heavyset - Muscular

**Eye Colour: **Brown

Someone who shares more similarities with a brick house than a man. Unlike what one would expect from appearances, he's far from mentally slow and he's made that clear several times during the group's brief time together. The man's only strength was in his fists - both of which could mutilate several men in a single blow. Despite his size, he prefers to follow and without proper guidance, he'll merely charge headlong into combat without a care for the "team." His reason for joining would likely be Isaac himself, There was history between them and they had likely applied as partners.

Where most magi reached a point in reinforcement where additional mana ceased to provide a defensive benefit, Bear had no such limit. It was a feature limited only to his fists, but the mutation allowed him to make his own two bare hands as hard and unyielding as solid steel. This reinforcement also elevated his grip strength to herculean levels, enough that the man could literally crush a human skull with ease.

Of all the members of the group, Bear had the strangest past. To have a list of prior operations that was so clean and simplistic is unnatural, especially considering his profession. All of his completed contracts had ended without death and had been specifically taken from other Enforcers. Trying to find a pattern, Sakasha discovered that each Enforcer the contracts were taken from were labeled as dangerous and typically caused more casualties than necessary.

**Cherry Walz**

**Height: **5'8"

**Weight: **130 pounds

**Age: **21

**Place of Birth: **Netanya, Israel

**Sex: **Female

**Skillset: **Alchemy, ballistic weaponry, toxins, seduction, interrogation

**Body Type: **Lithe - Muscular

**Eye Colour: **Green

A woman more concerned with _looking _the part of an assassin rather than actually _being _an assassin. Superfluous, temporary and full of herself to the highest degree. Compared to Sakasha she was third-rate, but her methods were effective in their own right. Seduction, manipulation and alchemy, with a lengthy history of mercenary work both documented and undocumented. Sakasha estimates that in combat, Cherry would lose every time. If a reason for her joining existed, it would likely be for something as fleeting and worthless as fame.

With tactics as flawed as her pretentious worldview, Cherry uses shady assassination attempts as a primary offence. For normal "kill" missions, such a thing would work, but this mission was far from normal. Blending her tactics with alchemy and toxins, the woman has the chance to be an asset.

Rumours of Cherry and Isaac working together on prior operations weren't unknown to the others amidst the group. Neither of the other Enforcers had brought such a thing up but the magi among them certainly had. There were suggestions that the two were more than mere working partners, a notion sourly downplayed by Cherry herself, proven true by way of strange noises and discarded clothing outside a locked room on their way to the Russian outback.

**Whisper**

**Height: **5'10"

**Weight: **180 pounds in equipment

**Age: **Unknown

**Place of Birth: **Unknown

**Sex: **Unknown

**Skillset: **Mechanics, tinkering, explosives, computers, firearms, traps

**Body Type: **Unknown

**Eye Colour: **Unknown

A real mysterious sort. Nobody has ever seen beneath their suit and nobody has ever heard them make a single sound beyond that of breathing. Their history is just as shrouded in mystery. Their past, their goals, their aspirations, all a mystery. They were a true enigma and nobody seemed to mind the fact. Digging into their history, Sakasha found a surprising amount of data. They were a lap dog for the Clock Tower, a tried and true grunt who took every job offered no matter the risk. Unlike others, who typically met their demise because of such a decision, Whisper returned every time - with or without their team members.

User of mechanical, new-age weaponry. Whisper is a tactical combatant that relies on fancy, high-tech tricks to succeed. Normally effective with careful planning against magi far from skilled with modern technology, against someone like Sakasha, his methods would be much less effective.

Unlike typical Enforcers, who had prior contracts organized and detailed by the Clock Tower, Whispers entries were strangely omitted or entirely redacted by Lorelei Barthomeloi herself. To have such a high-ranking member purge data from the records is uncommon and suggests something ulterior, but deeper investigation revealed less than a single iota of hard evidence.

**Magi**

**Jaques Corvier**

**Height: **5'7"

**Weight: **145 pounds

**Age: **68

**Place of Birth: **Liverpool, Great Britain

**Sex: **Male

**Skillset: **Mystic code creation

**Body Type: **lnfirm - Elderly

**Eye Colour: **Brown

Unknown to most, but well-known to those in need. A general mystic-code creator that custom tooled whatever could be desired for the right price. Unlike traditional mystic code crafters, Jaques provided his goods without a trail, without anything to trace back. He asked no questions, was discreet in his production and delivered the product when it was required. Of all the other members of their group, Jaques was the only one Sakasha had met before assembling to take down their mark. For that reason alone, he's somewhat closer to Sakasha, though she wouldn't call them anything close to friends.

In preparing himself for this mission, Jaques brought along a myriad number of tools that had a possibility in helping out with their assignment. Since Sakasha was the only one who happened to see the worth in having the older man within their ranks, she took on the responsibility of carrying several items herself, storing each one within a small pack set at the back of her hips. So far the man had yet to request one, but there would be a time where he would, undoubtedly.

It's well known that with age comes perversion and Jaques was no exception to the adage. Whether leering at Cherry or sizing up Sakasha with a lecherous grin, the man spends far more time conversing with the female members of the group than with the males. In fact, nearly every instance of him initiating a conversation was toward a woman. Despite his voyeuristic ways, he had yet to take any - more serious - actions toward the female members.

**Émile Tozer**

**Height: **4'11"

**Weight: **93 pounds

**Age: **23

**Place of Birth: **Brunswick, Germany

**Sex: **Female

**Skillset: **Enhancement, restoration, reinforcement, bounded fields

**Body Type: **Waifish - Miniature

**Eye Colour: **Blue

An incredible oddity, even in the world of magi. A pixie by all rights with the appearance and personality to fit her miniature frame. An enchantress, restoration and alteration magus, able to spin incredible fortifications, and bolster the abilities of allies better than most magi twice her age. Why she accepted the job isn't really known and she refrains from revealing it whenever questioned. Likely the friendliest, arguably most tactically useful member of the group.

As valuable as Sakasha pegged her to be initially, Émile provides much-needed protection against overwhelming firepower. As flamboyant and childish as she was, when the job demanded it, she got to work without being asked. Being a freelancer and such a valuable asset, Sakasha would easily consider her the closest person to a friend within the group.

Èmile Tozer doesn't exist in any birth records. In fact, her birth - and her early life before the age of eight - are nonexistent. It's as if she merely appeared within the Clock Tower at the age of twelve and began working as a back-alley cleric for those unable to pay for treatment from greedy high-class clerics. Unlike typical back-alley operators who had a reputation for causing massive bodily mutations, the girl gained a reputation for providing treatment quickly, painlessly and without side effects for a meager sum.

**Garris "Watcher" Halencak**

**Height: **6'0"

**Weight: **210 pounds

**Age: **25

**Place of Birth: **Springfield, Illinois

**Sex: **Male

**Skillset: **Limited martial arts experience, magical detection, Mystic Eyes of Perception

**Body Type: **Athletic - Muscular

**Eye Colour: **Blue

If a man could ever act as a dictionary definition, Garrus would define "follower." The sort of man to "jump when ordered," and follow the crowd in whatever direction they might be going. A well-developed man who regularly attended the gym if his body was any indicator. The only quality going for him is his Mystic Eyes, a special variation that can identify objects with magical properties. He was likely only hired on to the job because he jumped at the opportunity when the Association asked. A novice by all rights, likely the first to die.

Garris has a swinging personality. In the morning, he is quiet, reserved and much more submissive than his nighttime counterpart. The brash, insensitive, and dismissive, "Night-Watcher," as Sakasha had dubbed it, operated on his own rules. The man likely deals with a peculiar form of schizophrenia, but a psychologist would be the only one to certify such a thing.

Despite being the only westerner among the group, Garris interestingly considered himself as the sole majority race among the group. Attempts during the first day of their operation to get Èmile to act as his personal maid went awry. To say the sight of a man cowering beneath a woman half his size in a frilly outfit wielding a magical wand was humourous was understating it.

**Sakasha** **Cebeline**

**Height: **5'8"

**Weight: **165

**Age: **22

**Place of Birth: **Zaragoza, Spain

**Sex: **Female

**Skillset: **Assassination, individual action, close combat, tactical planning

**Body Type: **Average - Athletic

**Eye Colour: **Brown

Originally born in Spain, her family relocated to Israel in her teens. Being drafted in the Israeli military was the starting point for her assassin lifestyle. Even as a young girl, killing seemed to come naturally to her. Growing to an adult in Israel, the woman moved once more to London where she spent the rest of her years. A black market mercenary who asks few questions and focuses on results. Effectiveness, efficiency and speed are her most desired attributes. A magus with few skills, utilized in a way that provides a much-needed edge in her line of work. Despises the vain and redundant, ironically both qualities of several members of her current team. While very unlikely to be considered the strongest or best member of the group, a debate could be had on whether she was the most experienced or not. The only group member to be paid upfront for a portion of the bounty and written into a contract to receive the rest of her share regardless of the outcome. If nobody returned from the mission, her next-of-kin would receive a decent sum of one million American dollars.

Keeping to herself meant an absence of pain if a team-member were to fall. Working without partners left her without baggage or deep emotional ties. It left her free to move and react without hesitation. It was why, even though she did enjoy a couple of the members of her current team, she refused to grow attached. A vile personal decision of a heartless assassin, but something necessary - at least in her mind.

She wasn't always a woman so shut away and reserved. If she looked back to her earliest memories, she could see a very different girl that did as young girls always did. She was a magus back then of course, but her thoughts and life were far less concerned with murder and getting paid. If she thought hard enough, she could remember her mother and father, both of which were simple magi, as odd as such a thing would sound. Unconcerned with the Clock Tower, the Root or much of what other magi would consider fundamental practices. Her family kept to themselves and developed what magecraft they could. If only they could see where their little girl ended up.


End file.
